


To Quiet The Noise

by Lonewritersclub



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - Fandom
Genre: Dissociative Identity Disorder, Hallucinations, It came out rather fluffy, Loving Embrace, M/M, Medication, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Multiple Personalities, Probably too fluffy for some people, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 11:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonewritersclub/pseuds/Lonewritersclub
Summary: Eric's insanity is showing but fortunately Bruce is there. After all he knows the both of them, Bruce can deal with this.





	To Quiet The Noise

**Author's Note:**

> So here Eric and Joker are both experiencing a dissociative identity disorder or something vaguely similar which means it isn't like in the comics exactly or at all really.

The apartment may have high ceilings that are usually considered some type of a luxury but they don't make the place any less of a cramped shithole as the very floorboards of the apartment are beginning to turn see-through from all the pacing and from generally being walked on for so long without any upkeep. Not to mention the hideous yellowed wallpapers with wrinkly flowers on them are practically peeling off in parts of entire walls. 

Eric Border doesn't have much money while on the other hand Bruce Wayne is nothing if not a wealthy man. That in turn means that despite the rickety retched apartment building Eric lives in, certain custom upgrades and additions have been made to his way of life ever since Eric's and the billionaire's paths became adjacent. One of them having much to do about this exact situation at hand. Desperate, extensive, and hopefully only temporary, solutions to Eric's agonizing troubles. The most central one of them being Eric slowly losing his mind. 

" _He won't stop talking..._ "

The scrawny man of all long limbs with striking pale features and a mop of dark brown hair, clad in his fleemarket bought polished white suit, cries and trembles in Bruce's firm million dollar arms. The twists and pulls of tensed lean muscle beneath the hypersensitive snow white skin are becoming increasingly more violent and uncontrollable. Bruce is doing his best to contain it and calm Eric down in spite of uncharacteristically starting to become slightly a nervous wreck himself although he's dealt with much more damning situations before, though usually as Batman. Somehow this still feels like it'll be so much worse if he doesn't succeed, if something does manage to go wrong in the end. 

"Did you take your medication tonight, Eric?" Bruce asks even though they are standing in the doorway of Eric's bathroom and he can see the orange pill bottle right there sitting on the sink counter, white lid still open. Eric nods frantically his head in confirmation and a desperate, raw sound escapes from between his teeth before he presses his head back into Bruce's chest, in between his hands that are clenched in Bruce's shirt. 

"Okay... Okay, it's going to be alright. You're going to be fine, it's just going to take some time before they kick in", Bruce tries reassuring him though he knows it's mostly useless. He proceeds tightening his gentle hold around the man's much lither frame.

A few moments of chocked breathing and couple of sniffs later, Eric lifts his head from Bruce's chest again but this time dead silent, looking over Bruce's shoulder into nothing - but still at something.

"He's here...", he cries out quietly, green eyes terrorized with trepidation as he looks at the invisible monster behind Bruce's back that could easily at anytime become very real again. Eric's now nearly clawing at Bruce's shirt down into shreds in his hysteria. "Shh... Don't listen to him. Don't listen to him, Eric", Bruce tells him and presses one big hand behind Eric's head, pushing it back against his chest so he wouldn't look at the evil lurking inside him and rests his head on Eric's. 

"Remember who you are, Eric. Don't let him in control", Bruce says into the green apple scented hair hoping to be enough for Eric to stay grounded. 

But then he's hearing small chuckles coming from the man he's embracing, slowly and quiet at first before turning up in volume and deepness, becoming more and more sinister. Then they stop for a moment and Eric's coming back for a minute with terrified sobbing and quickened breathing. "B-Bru-c-ce, p-please help me", he pleads from him with teary eyes as he looks up to Bruce's face. And God, Bruce would give anything not to have to do what he has to next and just save Eric from himself.

Or in other words which twist knots inside Bruce's stomach as he thinks about it from another point of view - save the Joker from his insanity. 

Bruce kneels down to that he won't intimidate Eric all the more by towering over him, and cups his hollow cheeks in his hands, brushing tears away. His face is contracted in pain and despair and the effort of trying to hold himself together. It's so strange to think who this person also is and watch them both display such different emotions at the same time. He can imagine how gleeful Joker must be on this very second knowing that Eric's at a weak stage and easy to take advantage of. 

"It will be alright, I promise. I'll keep you safe. Remember what we talked about the plan B? I'm going to have to get the jacket now so you aren't going to hurt yourself. Just remember to breathe and try to stay calm and I'll take care of the rest", Bruce says slightly apologetically as he looks at Eric for confirmation that he had heard him. When Eric's unfocused eyes find his finally, he gets up slowly as not to startle him and goes to the cabinet in far right corner, looking over his shoulder the whole time. 

He opens the cabinet doors and goes to the last drawer, unlocks it with the key only he possesses and pulls it open. He takes it out with a sad sigh - the straitjacket. 

At least it's not something of Arkham's design. It's one of Lucius' design - unrelenting and secure but comfortable and suitable enough not to add more to Eric's discomfort by being soft in its material and also having been fitted exactly to his figure. And the stark white fabric does not have a spot of _anything_ on it - something you definitely could not say about Arkham's brand of equipment and clothing. 

Then Bruce reaches to the end of the drawer and pulls out the mask. White, too, cushioned hard plastic along with a foam fitting as not to hurt Eric's sensitive skin, and takes them both to the creaking bed before coming back to Eric's side. He has huddled to the doorway, grabbing at the brickwork showing through the teared plaster and paint, his fingernails beginning to crack.

"It's alright, come on now..."

Bruce has to break them free, wincing as he does so from watching blood fill the underside of Eric's long nails, before he can start guiding them both to the bed. Ultimately, he carries him there and then sits him down to the edge carefully. He kneels back on his feet to look into the green eyes filled with despair but no longer sees Eric there. He sees _no one_. 

Bruce just has to take the folded jacket to his lap and starts preparing it for dressing Eric with it. When he's ready, he puts his hands on the lapels of Eric's suit and gently tucks the jacket off of his unresponsive body. He sets it aside after folding it neatly and then reaches for Eric's pliant arm and extends it so he can work the straitjacket's sleeve around it. Pain fills Bruce's heart that's located itself now to the pit of his stomach and fights back the tears he feels behind him eyes and teeth, especially his throat through which he feels hard to breathe. 

Bruce just wants to say sorry. Over and over again but he knows it won't make a difference. 

Instead he clothes Eric in a straitjacket and tightens discreet buckles at the back of it. When that's done, the work is not over yet. Bruce stands up, knees cracking and goes to sit behind Eric's back to put on the mask. It feels like the worst part as Bruce is literally confining his voice at the same time as he's trying to simply keep him safe. It just feels too extreme but Bruce doesn't want to relive the last time when there had been no mask. 

He gently, and as careful as ever, lifts the mask over Eric's face and secures it from the back appropriately so it's not too tight but it's ensured enough not to come off accidentally. When it's there, Bruce deals with a hard time actually facing him. 

The white cover of the mask veils the lower half of Eric's face, carving under his eyes and over his nose behind his ears. Warm breathe puffs through the tiny airholes in the mask. Eric's eyes are shut tight, his form still trembling against Bruce. It feels and looks _wrong._

Bruce hugs Eric back to his chest and lightly strokes his face - trying to comfort both Eric and himself - the palm of his hand fitting over Eric's hairline, hoping to help him keep the man sedated for as long as he can if he'll feels safe enough here. 

He should have known it still wouldn't be enough as not so long after Eric is fading away into nothing to the back of his tattered mind and... and the Joker is surfacing. The man starts convulsing in Bruce's lap as it happens but then the body becomes dead still. His breathing slows down until it's barely noticeable. Bruce gazes over him in concern and caution but he isn't moving one bit. Only his eyes have opened and they are staring into the cracked ceiling - the pupils are like tiny pinpoints, a visible, dependant sign.

The immobility goes on for a while and then out of nowhere he begins to squirm out of Bruce's arms but Bruce's reflexes are quick and he holds on tight, pressure building with each tugs the man makes against him to escape, and stares intently into the opposite wall in concentration and pain. The man's breathing has picked up again in agitation.

"Shh... You're alright. You're safe. I'm here. I'm right here", Bruce tries to console him though he isn't sure which one of them. Perhaps both. Perhaps just the one in his arms right now. 

He seems to listen to him, surprisingly, as the struggling halts slightly from his words. Bruce gently tries turning him around in his lap so he could see his face and recognize him. 

The green eyes are wild and dancing all over the place: at his bound body, at his mouth that won't open and the apartment that isn't his. He won't look at Bruce for the world in him so Bruce cups his face between his hands and leans in so that he has nowhere else to look but him. And when that happens, when he finally focuses on Bruce, those pupils dilate until there's barely any green left in his manic eyes. 

Though Bruce can't see it, by now he can feel when Joker's smiling at him. He can see it from his his eyes, the light in them and the slight wrinkles around them. And Bruce  _knows_ this one isn't another notorious and malicious one. This is one of the rarest, most tender ones that nearly nobody sees. No one is supposed to see one other than Bruce. 

His breathing calms down and Bruce sighs out in relief that he has managed to grasp control of the situation if only slightly and for a second. A small smile greets Joker's. Bruce's thumb caresses Joker's temple and then pets his hair behind his ear. Softly, Bruce says:

"Joker?"

And Joker tilts his head to the side a little to push against Bruce's hand and Bruce smirks a little from fondness but then his eyebrows knot together and he's fighting back the tears again as he looks at the man in front of him, confined and broken but ever so hopeful and resistant even when it sometimes would be best not to be. 

"I missed you..." Bruce admits to him in a pain filled low voice, so tense it might just break with the slightest touch applied. And a tear does escape from the corner of his right eye but he doesn't go to wipe it off because he doesn't want to let go of him for a single second. 

Joker beholds him with a strange sort of sympathy and frowns sadly without truly understanding Bruce's emotional turmoil. While he's still able to attribute it somewhat, it's not the same as with other people. Besides, it's harder for him right now because of the medication. It's just a bad time. Bruce knows that without it messing with his system he would be much more responsive or at least not start struggling again in effort to escape after only a minute or two of witnessing Bruce's grieving. 

Bruce latches on his slight biceps and holds him down on the bed and tries to make him look at him again. "Please, J, come on, please... Hold still. Please, I need to talk to you. Stop that, hey-"

Joker's got a foot wedged between them and pushes it against Bruce's kneecap and eventually Bruce's hold loosens and then Joker's tumbling down onto the floor head first with a dull thump. Bruce jumps down in his tow and kneels in front of the crumpled piece of man and catches him back in his arms, quickly scanning his head to make sure he didn't hurt himself too badly. When he sees nothing severe, he turns Joker's head to face him again all the while the long white clad legs are twisting on the floor in a vain attempt to get a grip of something. 

Joker looks back at him and whines through the mask, tugging at his restrained arms that won't move one bit. Bruce does his best at keeping his own voice steady and controlled. And as reassuring as possible in this scenario. He isn't so sure if it works. He's already too involved with this emotionally to truly stay objective about it.

"Calm down. Where do you think you're going?"

Joker plainly leers at him.

"You're staying right here with me. Do you understand?" Bruce looks at him patiently. "I can't let you go", he tells him sorrowfully. "Not until the medication starts working", he adds in a quiet voice regretfully. He sees panic filling Joker's eyes but he still can't let him go. He can see him trying to open his mouth to scream at him _"it's not me who needs to go under, it's him! this is my body! it's mine!"_

And Bruce can't let go of him even if it was the truth. Even if it is the truth. He can't have them both at the same time and he can't give them both what they want. Neither can be when the other's entirely free. Their noisy minds are intertwined inseparably and still separate. 

Maybe someday Joker will break free and all hell will be loose on Gotham again but until that time Bruce will still have Eric to hold on to to prevent it from happening. And whenever Eric's not around, he has Batman there to take care of the other. 

The green eyes are turning glassy as they glare at him and Bruce closes his eyes in respect and presses their foreheads together. 

To quiet both of the noises. 

And kisses his eyebrow that will start to loose its tension against Bruce's caressing and Bruce looks upon him again and strokes back his hair that is brown and not green and kisses his head, too. Then he just waits with him until Joker's brain is rewired again.

Bruce keeps stroking his hair softly and watches the Joker stare longingly at the already open door - they never even gave him a change, it was a clear game from the start. 

Ultimately he has to resign himself to simply lie in Batsy's arms until he can't anymore and savor each moment until that happens. And it's not as if Bruce doesn't give him a run for his money. He has him enfolded and cherished in a lamb-like embrace and is spoken sweet-nothings to with kisses here and there all the while his vision starts to go a little blurry and hearing slightly echo-y. 

The ground is cold and at some point Bruce takes a blanket from the bed and wraps it around him with affection. It's when Joker dares to look at him again, when he isn't so angry anymore and instead lets go of the resentment till there's another time for it. 

"You know I hate this", Bruce tells him after a little while when Joker can barely make out the words anymore. He's looking down at him, his large hand resting on Joker's chest. He leans forward, close to his ear so that Joker can feel his warm breath tickling and also hear his words. "I do love you, too."

Bruce leans back just a little so that he can see the half closed green eyes smile at him tenderly once more. 

By morning, still on the chilly floor, Bruce's back is stiff and his eyes are slumberous and he is holding Eric in his arms. 


End file.
